Past is Lent­en sad­ness,
Past the time to weep;
All the earth is wak­ing
From her win­ter sleep.
In this hap­py spring­tide,
Sweet the birds that sing;
Sweeter child­ren’s voic­es,
Praising Christ the King.

To the cross of Je­sus
Late did we r­epair;
All those sins la­ment­ing
Which had nailed Him there;
To the grave with Ma­ry,
Hasten we this morn,
Where our Lord was rest­ing,
Till the ear­ly dawn.

Yes, He rose vic­tor­ious,
Over death and sin;
We must rise and con­quer
All that’s wrong with­in;
We must rise each morn­ing,
With our sins for­giv’n,
Rising with our Sav­ior,
Daily near­er Heav’n.

Then, when life is end­ed,
And our work is done,
All the rough road tra­veled,
All the vic­to­ry won,
We shall rise in glo­ry,
With our ris­en Lord,
Who, with God the Fa­ther
And the Spir’t ad­ored.